


For the very first Time

by Cylin



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry insecure Lambert, First Time, M/M, Roleplay, Soft Boys, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Sweet insightful Eskel, Virginity Kink, but also insightful Lambert at times, different dynamic than you might expect, emotionsssss, innocence kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26380453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cylin/pseuds/Cylin
Summary: "Just be careful with… me.” It sounds like he's testing Lambert or testing out the words for himself, but it sets Lambert's heart racing.Lambert asks Eskel to be his first time, in a way
Relationships: Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 188





	For the very first Time

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Kaermorons for the help, betaing and general squeeing. Also Fushicho! This would never have been finished without your tireless encouragement!
> 
> Just a sidenote to the more radical Geralt stans out there:  
> I'm not shitting on Geralt here. I just think that there is a reason why his and Lambert’s relationship is so difficult and it's not just Lambert being Lambert.

“Fuck, Geralt, really?” Lambert snorts with devilish mirth grinning over the rim of his nearly empty cup. “ _Another_ bard of 18?”

“It was a long time ago. Never saw her again,” he answers, looking into his cup uncomfortably - and a little sadly, Eskel thinks. “Pox took her in Vizima a couple of years later.” He downs the rest of his tankard and stands up. “Sorry,” he grunts, clearly aware he has killed the playful mood, “I’m going to bed.”

Eskel watches him leave and Lambert fidgets.

They just sit in the wake of that story, nursing their drinks, waiting for the heavy atmosphere to dissipate with Geralt’s departure, but comfortable in each other’s company nonetheless. Eskel is trying to remember another tryst - hopefully a happier one - to amuse Lambert with, when the man suddenly huffs, clearly annoyed.

“Well bugger the Gods, all this talk has made me horny and even the fucking maudlin bastard hasn’t managed to kill my boner,” Lambert laments explosively with a groan. “Gods, I haven’t fucked in _ages_!”

“You wanna?” Eskel doesn’t really know what makes him ask this in that moment, but he is not about to take it back now it's in the open.

“What?”

“It’s not like it would be a hardship, Lambert.” Eskel says with a good natured leer hoping to convey the truth of his attraction underneath and masking his own nervousness. He is treading on thin ice but when will he ever get an opening like this again?

Lambert looks flustered, his eyes darting all over the place. Eskel is about to retract his offer, when Lambert breathes out - it sounds like he has been punched - but then he just laughs. He jumps up from the bench and prowls around, dispelling his tension the only way he knows how that isn't a fight. 

“Yeah, sure!” It sounds strained and a little too high. Despite his assent, he is clamming up and Eskel hates it.

“I’d gladly let you fuck me,” Eskel adds roughly with wiggling eyebrows, because he gathers that gentleness would make Lambert bolt.

It makes Lambert haul him up from his bench and slam him bodily into the wall instead. 

“You’re an asshole!” Lambert grouses, fists shaking from how hard he clenches them in Eskel's gambeson.

Eskel looks confused, making a questioning sound.

“Oh c’mon, pull the other one, Eskel!” Lambert spits angrily. He pushes against Eskel once, knuckles white, and turns to leave.

Lightning quick, Eskel lets his hand rest over Lambert’s still clenched in the thick fabric, not grasping, never grasping in a situation like this.

“You think I’m joking?” Eskel asks and somehow that thought makes his stomach clench unpleasantly.

Lambert glares at him, not deigning his question with an answer. But Eskel’s open expression doesn’t change and the longer Lambert looks the more his own face changes from defensive, righteous anger to disbelief, to confusion and then finally blankness, which Eskel knows is often his way of dampening a flicker of cautious hope.

“I’d like that,” Eskel says carefully. It’s a confession that makes him incredibly nervous. He realises he’s holding his breath and lets it out slowly through his nose as not to have Lambert notice.

Lambert had been an insufferable, explosive youth. He’d grown into a volatile young man and matured into an angry, but incredibly capable witcher and along that transition somewhere Eskel had started seeing him in a different light. But he had never dared to pursue him, because Lambert was mercurial and difficult and Eskel was just glad they had some kind of working relationship with each other at all. But after Kaer Morhen was sacked, almost everyone Eskel knew and cared about _massacred,_ and everything was broken, Eskel had taken a long, hard look at what was left of his life. What was important had changed after that. But it had taken him decades to get to here and now, to finally push for something. A risky change.

“But I get to have your ass.”

“Sure, if that’s what you want,” Eskel says easily. It’s not just a fuck he wants, but if that’s all he can get, it’ll do.

“What does _that_ mean, ‘ _if that’s what I want’?”_ Lambert snorts. He even uses air quotes while he scowls suspiciously. It’s clear Eskel’s easy acquiescence confuses him.

Eskel decides to throw a different question at him. “What _do_ you want, Lambert?”

Skittering, yellow eyes check again that Eskel is not having him on, that he is genuine and Eskel weathers the intense stare and the flickering insecurity that is harder to bear for Eskel than any biting insults thrown his way.

Lambert takes a breath and visibly steels himself. Eskel has to stifle his smile, because he is so incredibly proud that Lambert is about to take that particular leap of faith and he doesn’t want to spoil it by a reaction Lambert will not interpret well.

“Can we,” Lambert stops, licks his lips more in nervousness than a ploy to excite. Yet Eskel can’t help following that pink tongue and focusing on the wetness it leaves behind on Lambert’s lower lip. He feels his stomach drop molasses slow, the beginnings of arousal spreading deep and warm through his body.

“Can we maybe.. I want…” He stalls again. “This is stupid.” The muscles in his jaw and neck jump from how hard he grinds his teeth, already turning away forestalling any rejection he imagines coming. Eskel immediately misses his warmth, the scent of his skin, even his aggressive stance with which he pushed Eskel into the wall. Eskel let him do that. It felt good.

He quickly wraps both arms tightly around Lambert, nearly crushing his wiry form to his much broader chest and Lambert struggles, spitting harmless vitriol until he calms. Eskel pushes his nose into his hair while Lambert grumbles, annoyed. But he doesn’t once tell Eskel to let him go.

“Will you tell me now, what you want?”

“It’s really stupid and lame,” Lambert hedges.

“That’s okay, I like stupid and lame,” Eskel retorts gently but with a meaningfully cocked eyebrow as he gives Lambert a pointed, mischievous look.

Lambert snaps at his nose in retaliation and rears back, shocked, when Eskel doesn’t dodge and he actually grazes it with his teeth. He looks instantly apologetic and starts to push away in earnest, but Eskel just drops his face into his neck with a snicker, rubbing his stinging nose against Lambert’s perpetual stubble and holds him tighter.

“Just tell me, Lambert.”

He feels the fight seep out of him.

He speaks next to Eskels’s mop of dark hair, addressing the wall behind him and finally gets the words out. “I would like to, maybe, play at, uh, _inexperience_?” His voice rises almost comically. He notices and scowls defiantly at the wall.

"Are you trying to regain your lost innocence, Lambert?" Eskel is teasing, his voice light, eyes sparkling.

Lambert abruptly pushes out of Eskel’s arms. "I was never innocent," he replies curtly.

Eskel's eyes shoot wide open, cold gripping his chest and heart plummeting at the images that statement conjures for Eskel. 

But Lambert isn't looking at him and continues, "Ever since my dad beat us to a pulp. And I can't remember a time when he didn't, so…" He trails off and falls silent.

At least it wasn't what Eskel thought first. At least it wasn't that. But a heartbeat later he wonders if Lambert's experiences truly were any better at all.

“Sorry, I killed the mood,” Lambert says ruefully as he slowly pushes out of Eskel's arms.

“No, it’s okay. Thank you for telling me.” Eskel means it.

“Yeah, whatever.” Lambert sniffs, then rubs his nose, looking around the room and Eskel can tell the gesture for what it is. He gladly lets him off the hook.

“So…” He says a little awkwardly himself. There really is no elegant way to transition in this situation, so Eskel goes for directness, “You still want to fuck me?”

Lambert looks to Eskel then and a small, hesitant grin quirks just at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, if you wanna?”

“Very much.” Eskel hears Lambert’s breath catch and after all his bluster and anger of before that small sound is so incredibly gratifying.

“So you want me to be the virginal maid? Trembling and excited for something she doesn't know anything about?" Eskel smirks, but it drops away at Lambert's uncomfortable cringe. 

"No, I…" He hesitates for a beat. "You're not a maid, that's not…" Lambert swallows and looks away. "Maybe trembling and a little frightfully excited, yes, but not a maid. Never a maid. Just...just you."

Perplexed, Eskel just looks at Lambert for a second too long, and the younger wolf’s face already shutters.

“Okay,” Eskel says quickly and Lambert’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

Eskel wonders briefly what in his behaviour in the past ever made Lambert think that he would outright let him hang like that in a situation as vulnerable as this. But Lambert is complicated, layered - _like an onion_ , Eskel hears Geralt’s voice in the back of his head and although it was meant as a joke at the time, he presses his lips together in annoyance. Geralt believed in tough love, because that’s the way he had been - they all had been - brought up here in Kaer Morhen and only later learned that it was utter bullshit, but by that time Lambert’s and Geralt’s relationship was already fraught. And Lambert didn’t forgive easily - or ever. Eskel wonders when Lambert's and Geralt's relationship had bled over to taint his and Eskel’s.

“Sure,” he adds with a slightly strained smile, patting Lambert’s shoulder a little harder than necessary to indicate that the tension around his eyes has nothing to do with the younger wolf, when he walks past him. He indicates Lambert with a twitch of his head to follow him.

Lambert hesitates for a heartbeat, still shaken, then swallows the rest of his drink and follows Eskel up the grand winding staircase to his room. He is altogether too quiet and it worries Eskel, but he wants to be in the privacy of his own room to address any of it.

Lambert steps into the room much too cautiously, looking at Eskel’s writing desk, the dying fire in the hearth, but bravely striding towards Eskel’s bed once he spots it at the far side of the large room. He stops abruptly in front of it and just stares, not moving.

“You can sit down,” Eskel offers without making it seem like he is coaxing him. He walks past Lambert, making sure his hip brushes him, jostling him good naturedly and sits down. Looking up at Lambert with a small grin he pats the space next to him and is relieved when Lambert finally sits down with a huff. He is sitting closer than Eskel expected. He wants to brush up Lambert's neck as the witcher leans forward resting his weight on his elbows, but doesn't dare, fearing it will scare him off into anger.

Eskel takes a deep breath, leans back, supporting his weight on his hands to give Lambert some space and closes his eyes, just enjoying the small pleasure of having the other near, his scent slowly permeating the air and mixing with Eskel’s own in the room.

For a moment they just sit like this, just existing together in the calm space of Eskel’s room.

"What was your first time like?" Lambert asks into the quiet of the room.

Eskel leans forward, mirroring Lambert, their shoulders brushing comfortably.

"She was a whore,” Eskel answers readily. “Quite a bit older than me actually. Had the gentlest hands I can remember."

He can practically feel Lambert readying a crass reply, probably to do with the merits of older women, but something gives him pause. Maybe it was Eskel’s voice. He hadn't meant the last bit to sound so sad.

"So how was it?" Lambert asks tentatively instead.

"Weird,” Eskel says with a scrunch of his nose, before he continues a little self- deprecatingly, "Nice in a way, but weird." He sighs; wistful or melancholic he can’t even tell himself. "I guess I figured out that men are more my area pretty quickly after that." He falls silent for a moment, sinking into his own thoughts. "I think she knew even back then. Before I did," Eskel murmures with a sad smile. "She held me and stroked my hair afterwards."

"But you do go to brothels and…?" Lambert makes a rude gesture that indicates what he means, while he frowns, unsure.

Eskel snorts. It sounds bitter. "Yeah. I have to, if I want to get laid at all. Only the brothels in large cities cater to… people like me. You can get hanged for it in some kingdoms even. You know that."

It sounds much more accusatory than he means to and Lambert looks away, shamefaced. "I just… you talk about women a lot."

"And they are beautiful,” Eskel concedes. "I like the way they make me feel and I like the way their breasts feel. But their taste and...I don't know," His gaze drops to the side as if he could retrieve his answer from the floor. "There are a few exceptions, but I just think about something else usually. It feels nice enough," he says. He takes an audible breath, expels it quickly with a finality that puts an end to any more questions Lambert might have wanted to ask. "What about you? How was yours?"

Lambert can't meet Eskel's eyes.

He finally mumbles, "She was afraid," in a small voice, then hastily adds, "I couldn’t smell it. I didn't realise. Her perfumes, they - I was too excited and… I didn't realise... Until after I was done." His face looks blank, but Eskel can see the shame and self-loathing in the thin, hard line of his usually full lips. "It was quick. For her. Thankfully, I think."

Eskel touches the back of Lambert's clenched fist and just lets his warm hand rest over it. 

"At least men tend to not reek of fear so much," Lambert says, shrugging with one shoulder, "Or it actually excites them, or they ignore it or something."

Eskel tries to keep his hand from flinching.

"Is that why you go for men?”

His fingers must have twitched minutely anyway, because Lambert's gaze snaps to them, then his eyes flick up to Eskel's face.

"I do like men," he states, almost deadpan and quickly turns his hand to grasp Eskel's fingers between his. He squeezes once roughly and doesn't let go.

“I’m just way more open than you, fucker,” he retorts with insufferable superiority, but the quick sideways look he tries to sneak by Eskel tells him that he is joking, trying to make the air feel less heavy. Eskel rather liked the sense of promise that was pressing in on them, but he understands his need to dissipate the tension.

He snorts, himself playfully derisive, “More open, eh? Taken that many large cocks in your oh so adventurous time, Lamby-kins?”

The scowl attempting to flay him alive at the nickname only makes Eskel laugh harder as he dances away on light feet, dodging a solid kick aimed his way.

Lambert knows he is being baited, but he explodes into movement anyway, taking a flying jump over the writing desk Eskel puts between them, both hands just guiding his weight over, legs stretched behind him, then pulling them close to his body as he clears the desk. He lands in a roll and easily uses the momentum to lunge forward again.

Eskel just has enough time to admire the Cat shit Lambert just pulled before his lithe frame slams into his middle, tackling him to the ground. He uses the momentum to roll back, but Lambert anticipates it and pushes into the roll, landing on top again, barely breathing hard, while Eskel’s a little winded from the impact.

He smirks up at the younger witcher knowing exactly what his next words will provoke. “What now, Lamby-kins?”  
  
“Fuck you!”

Eskel’s grin turns feral. “I mean yeah, but how?”

To Eskel’s surprise it makes Lambert start, then grow completely still, intense stare studying him with full focus. His heart speeds up, arteries in his neck jumping, and he lets out the held air in his lungs in a controlled exhale. It washes over Eskel’s face, making his eyelashes twitch. 

Eskel’s eyes grow wide as Lambert leans in, so slow, while his breath has sped up to quiet panting. Where Eskel expected a tussle or even a fight for dominance, he finds only softness and caution as Lambert’s lips brush against his. It’s not even a proper kiss, just their lips brushing in small, intimate touches. And somehow that careful tenderness gets him more than anything else would.

He gasps as Lambert pulls away, following him, grabbing his neck to pull him back for more. But Lambert just rests his hand on Eskel’s chest, softly pushing him back.

“Not a maid, but…” He reminds Eskel and then looks away, his ears flushing in embarrassment about what he wants. How specific it apparently is. He didn’t know.

“But softer?” Eskel guesses and sinks back down onto the floor looking up at Lambert. “Meek?” He probes, low voice rumbling out of him like a purr dragged over rubble. He lets his arms fall to the sides of his head, hands open, vulnerable, to illustrate. To his own astonishment the simple gesture makes his heart jump unexpectedly.

Lambert is still studying the floor to the side, but his gaze sidles over until he can look at Eskel from the corner of his eyes. He bites his lip nervously and Eskel expects him to get up and leave, feeling cornered, but he nods carefully.

Eskel smiles softly when he stays.

When Lambert doesn't make any attempt to move he asks gently with the barest hint of a smile, “Are you really gonna take my virginity here on the floor though?”

Lambert hisses in a breath and Eskel can actually feel the twitch in Lambert’s trousers against his lower stomach.

“Fuck, Eskel.” It sounds almost broken, awed, and Eskel can’t help but smile, stretching his head back, baring his neck intentionally.

A heartbeat later he feels calloused fingers caressing feather-light up the stretched skin, careful around his Adam's apple. The touch is fleeting, but it makes something weighty drop in Eskel’s stomach, swirling outwards. He opens his eyes, squinting up at Lambert when nothing more happens.

Lambert’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose are lightly flushed, lips bitten red. He gets up, letting his hands stroke over Eskel’s chest and stomach as he rolls onto his feet and stands. He holds out a hand to pull him up.

When they stand facing each other there is a moment of awkward tension, before Eskel steals a peck, grinning mischievously. The intense look Lambert gives him makes it drop away. He holds his breath as Lambert’s hands lift up to push his red and black jacket slowly from his shoulders. He realises Lambert doesn’t exhale either as his eyes follow his hands and then study Eskel’s with that same intensity that makes his stomach swoop pleasantly.

“Have you done this before?” Lambert whispers, a little shaky, still a little unsure, but Eskel shivers anyway, somehow - weirdly - touched deeply by what they’re playing at and closes his eyes, letting his breath out in a shuddering sigh.

“No. Never.”

Lambert’s breath hitches.

“Do you trust me?”

Eskel’s hands are shaking a little and he doesn’t really know why. “Yes.”

Lambert steps closer until his chest almost touches Eskel’s. “You can undress me, if you like,” he rumbles, his voice lower, intimate as it washes against the open V of Eskel’s undershirt. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” Eskel gasps. He lifts his hands to divest Lambert of his jerkin, but grips his upper arms instead, breathing more deeply, the slight tremor still racing up his spine making him a little weak in the knees.

A warm hand cups his cheek and Eskel leans into it without thinking, closing his eyes. When he opens them again, golden eyes search his carefully.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Lamber rumbles, eyebrows subtly drawn up in the middle, beseeching. “I won’t hurt you.”

Eskel nods, the words stuck in his throat for a moment as his stomach twists, then unclenches with a bloom of heat. “Okay,” he says in a small voice that’s only half-play.

Lambert leans even closer and for a moment Eskel thinks he will get another kiss, but Lambert pushes his nose against the side of this neck instead in a soft, snuffling nudge. He realises that the younger wolf is subtly checking his scent and his heart clenches.

“I trust you,” Eskel reaffirms.

For a second Lambert looks caught out, a complicated expression flitting over his face, before he cups Eskel's cheek and their lips meet again. It is as soft as the first kiss, but laced with more purpose now.

Eskel swallows, finding it hard to not push for more, reminding himself of his role, though his knees tremble in earnest now despite all that. He is still holding on to Lambert’s arms instead of undressing him, focus taken up entirely by the slide of slightly damp lips on his.

“Open your mouth,” Lambert murmurs.

Eskel does and moans as a slick tongue just taps the inside of his upper lip, before sliding carefully further.

Suddenly Eskel’s knees give a little and he pulls back, panting, subtly swaying. “Lambert,” he chokes. “I need to sit down.”

Instead of a smug, cheeky reply, he feels a warm hand at his neck, pushing into his hair. It makes his knees even weaker and he has to step back. “Sorry, I…”

“No, it’s okay,” Lambert says gently, sliding a hand around Eskel’s hip, supportive. “Anything for you.” It is almost not audible the way he whispers it, but Eskel hears and chokes back a whimper.

He stumbles to his bed and sits down heavily, panting. Before Lambert can fuss over him or ask if he is okay, which he can clearly see by his worried expression is about to happen, Eskel slides back onto the bed and quickly pulls his shirt over his head.

The view gives Lambert pause, but he still looks a little concerned as he follows Eskel onto the bed. Eskel leans back, encouraging him to follow over him. Prone on his back, Lambert’s knees and elbows depressing the mattress on either side of his body he looks up, nostrils flaring.

“Eskel, we don’t have to continue,” Lambert mumbles quietly, not moving, still frowning. “We can—”

"No, just..." Eskel lifts both his hands to frame Lambert's face. It's deliberate, a little practiced maybe, but his fingers tremble against Lambert's rough stubble all the same.

"Just be careful with… me.” It sounds like he's testing Lambert or testing out the words for himself, but it sets Lambert's heart racing. His face flushes.

"I'll be gentle," he promises in a shaky whisper. Heartfelt, earnest. 

Eskel's breath hitches. He looks confused as his eyes dilate under the words, and then slide to the side, embarrassed about being so affected.

Lambert clearly doesn't want him embarrassed and uncomfortable. "We can stop, we don't—”

"No," Eskel interrupts quickly, taken aback by his own vehemence, pausing. "It's… it's okay. It's… nice." He looks at Lambert then, their faces so close his eyes jump between Lambert's to focus. His breath still comes a little quicker. "Be gentle with me," he finally whispers, voice thick. 

"I promise." Lambert swallows and hides his face in Eskel's neck. "I'll be so good to you. I promise, I'll be good."

"Yes," Eskel answers and it sounds like awed conviction and a quiver of apprehensive excitement. For something unknown, something new and thrilling. His hips twitch up into Lambert’s weight on top of him without his doing. A timid moan slithers out of Eskel’s throat at the short-lived pressure against his cock. He is so hard in his trousers and didn’t realise, too focused on what Lambert was doing.

Lambert pulls back, looking down at Eskel. He bites his lip as one hand slowly worms between them and strokes gently over Eskel’s clothed erection.

“You’re excited,” he comments, breathless, as if he doesn't already know, as if he can’t smell it heavy in the air, wafting up from Eskel’s very skin.

He feels his face heat with a heavy blush. “I…” He doesn’t know how to respond to that and ends up just turning his burning face away.

But Lambert strokes two fingers of his other hand against his unscarred cheek. “No, this is good,” he assures softly, voice rough and Eskel moans as his other hand increases the pressure against straining flesh.

“Please,” Eskel whimpers.

“Please what?”

“I don’t know.” It’s a frustrated whine. He is falling deep into this fantasy and it is both intense and freeing. He doesn't know what frightens him more.

Trembling fingers finally fumble with Lambert’s clothes, trying to work them off and getting nowhere.

The younger witcher sits up, knees either side of Eskel’s hips, his groin just below Eskel’s denying him any pressure and Eskel could curse him right now.

Lambert quickly chucks his gambeson aside after he fumbles something small free and lets it drop next to Eskel’s hip. He pulls his undershirt over his head next.

Eskel’s hands lift up to touch on their own accord, but hesitate halfway there, unsure how forward he should be. Lambert takes them gently and places a soft kiss on the knuckles of each hand.

“Do you want to touch me?” Lambert rumbles.

Eskel nods, biting his lip.

“Do you want to know how? I can show you.” Lambert’s expression is both mischievous and gentle.

Eskel groans, pushing his head back into the pillows for a moment, gathering himself. He can feel precome wetting his braies.

“Show me.” Eskel shudders through the request, stomach clenching pleasantly.

Lambert places one of Eskel’s hands on his chest, his thumb just below a nipple. He pushes Eskel’s fingers over the skin and hair around it, goose-flesh erupting on his chest. It makes his nipple harden without being touched. Lambert’s breath hitches.

Eskel follows the movement of his fingers under Lambert’s with bated breath, mesmerised.

When he guides Eskel’s fingers finally over his nipple, he moans beautifully, his back arching and the muscles in his stomach contracting sharply. Lambert pushes the first two fingers of Eskel’s other hand onto his tongue, into his mouth to smother the moans, sucking with abandon, small whimpers falling free as his hips undulate, teasing Eskel’s still clothed, now very wet, erection with every slow roll.

“Like that,” Lambert gasps, head falling back, Eskel’s wet fingers sliding free from his lips, over his chin, leaving a trail of saliva glistening in the low light of the glowing embers in the hearth.

Eskel keeps his other hand on Lambert’s chest, stroking his nipple, watching in utter fascination as Lambert moans, writhing on top. He sneaks his other hand, still wet with Lambert’s spit into his trousers and grasps himself in a quick stroke, groaning in relief.

Alerted by the noise Lambert straightens up and smirks. “Good?” He asks with a cheeky grin and Eskel feels that question is completely redundant as he squeezes his cock.

Lambert leans forward, trapping Eskel’s hand between them until he cannot move it and presses another kiss against his lips. Eskel lets his mouth drop open like Lambert told him to earlier and moans into the wet slide of tongues.

“Let me show you something else good,” Lambert whispers playfully, conspiratorially. Eskel just stares at him dumbly, overwhelmed and horny. Lambert shuffles down his body and pulls Eskel’s trousers and braies with him, for a moment fighting with Eskel’s boots. When Lambert pulls his socks off, Eskel suddenly feels oddly exposed. They’ve seen each other naked many times before now and he has been with many men, but somehow this is all coloured differently in this space at this time.

He covers his straining manhood with both hands, pulling his legs up a little, before he aborts the movement and tries to consciously relax. Lambert notices and strokes his shin once in reassurance before he quickly divests himself of the rest of his own clothes.

He crawls back onto the bed between Eskel’s legs, softly nudging them apart, then just looks at him, his eyes proving everywhere. 

Nervousness, the likes Eskel hasn’t felt in many decades, swamps his mind and he drops his head to the side, hands clamping more forcefully over his cock, trying to hide it.

“No, gorgeous,” Lambert coos and he doesn’t know what he’s doing to Eskel in that moment; the devastation he’s wreaking. “You’re so beautiful, don’t hide.”

Eskel knows he’s talking about his cock, but somehow he feels suddenly flayed open, the scars on his face flaring raw and tight. Something must have shown on his face, because Lambert is at his side the next instant, strong, wiry arms cradling him close.

“It’s okay, Eskel. Shhh, it’s okay.”

To his shame Eskel feels his eyes sting anyway. Trying to mask it he pushes his lips against Lambert’s desperately, the kiss sloppy and wet. He clutches at Lambert's back, pulling him as close as he can, shaking, pushing his softening cock against Lambert to distract himself. Lambert lets him, kissing back with fervour until his inner turmoil calms somewhat.

Eskel is pitifully grateful that Lambert doesn’t comment on it, although he feels Lambert’s fingers twitch towards the scarred side of his face for a heartbeat, but he thankfully doesn’t touch it. Instead he nudges Eskel’s nose with his own and asks gently, hesitantly, “Can I be inside you?”

Eskel expels a shuddering breath. He wants to exalt and shout that yes, yes he wants that, so much. But he also still feels vulnerable and somehow needs to express it to expel it.

“It….” He hesitates, tasting the words out on his tongue, grasping for what concerned him when he was much younger, “It … won’t hurt?”

Lambert’s face crumbles and he shakes his head vehemently. “No! No, I’ll make sure it doesn’t, Love. It might feel a bit weird, but it shouldn't ever hurt. Okay?”

“Okay.” Eskel feels himself relax, feeling more settled and…Eskel examines that particular feeling closely and almost starts as he realises what this is: _safe_. It’s such an odd feeling.

“I want to make you feel so good.” Lambert promises fervently, kissing along Eskel’s unmarred cheek to his throat, veering off to his ear, hips pushing against Eskel’s cock trapped against the valley of his groin and thigh in lazy, full, _promising_ swells.

“That okay?” Lambert breathes into his ear, tip of his tongue flicking against the shell and Eskel shivers, his back alight in goosebumps.

He nods quickly, his soft cock twitching eagerly back to half mast. “Yeah… Yeah, I want that,” he says in a tremulous voice and only half of it is him still playing into this fantasy of theirs.

Lambert rumages for something next to Eskel’s hip and Eskel realises it’s a small bottle of oil he pulled from his gambeson earlier. He pulls back a bit, but never far, one hand on Eskel’s chest, rubbing gently down to his stomach, almost petting it. Eskel is oddly charmed by the gentling, caring gesture.

Gently, gaze checking Eskel’s face all the time, Lambert slowly trails one hand down between Eskel’s legs and softly shifts one knee to the side. Eskel’s heart is hammering in his chest as his legs part slowly. His cock pulses against this stomach, it’s weight making it curve subtly to the side. A thick dollop of precome dribbles out, catching in the hair around his belly button.

“Lambert,” Eskel pleads softly, astonished at how raw his voice sounds. “Please touch me?”

“I’d like you to touch yourself, if that’s alright? You know yourself best and I’d like to learn what makes you feel good.” His eyes look so sincere, so hopeful. “Show me?”

Eskel feels an overwhelming, overstimulated tension trapping his body and he has to move, writhe, to dispel it. Shuddering in the sheets, as his hands grip the linen either side to his body, he whines, eyes slammed shut, head thrown to the side, lip caught between sharp teeth.

“Fuck, Eskel,” Lambert whimpers in awe, rubbing both hands up Eskel’s thighs in a hard grip leaving red streaks as the skin flushes. Whether the touch was for Eskel’s benefit or because Lambert just needed to touch him to dispel his own energy, doesn’t matter in the end, as the touch is grounding to Eskel.

He spreads his legs wider, bracketing Lambert still half kneeling over his prone, still trembling body. Eskel’s cock is now twitching and pulsing in a puddle of clear precome, tapping his lower stomach in time with his hastened heart.

“Gods, Eskel, you’re so wet. So _messy_.”

The astonished delight and sheer lust in Lambert’s voice makes Eskel suddenly frustrated. “Oh Gods, just fucking do something Lambert!” Eskel snarls, hips bucking hard. A string of clear fluid, its flow deviated to the side by the desperate movement, slides off Eskel’s hip and into the sheets. It tickles and the feeling is almost unbearable. The enticing smell moreso.

Lambert snorts, still delighted, and quickly steals a kiss with the intent to mollify Eskel and then wriggles down, getting comfortable with one elbow supporting the weight of his upper body over Eskel’s hip to the side, while he spreads his own legs in a wide crouch with Eskel’s much thicker ones spread obscenely over Lambert’s lithely muscled thighs.

Eskel has just a second to notice that he has lost track of Lambert’s other hand, before he feels questing fingers stroking behind his balls and further back. Slick and warm.

“Remember to touch yourself,” Lambert murmurs, voice deep and eager.

Eskel moans, shuddering again though less overwhelmed. He works his hand into the space between their bodies and slowly wraps his fingers around his cock in a firm grip. The first squeeze and pull feels like heaven, making Eskel keen and his hips buck sharply.

“That’s it. Fuck, you look amazing.”

Lambert sounds so utterly shattered Eskel has to close his eyes and turn his head away, because that small utterance has his usually formidable control suddenly slipping on a hair trigger.

He takes another deep breath and strokes once up and down, slow, indulgent and with a little too much pressure on the squeeze to keep himself further back from the brink.

He feels a weight on his stomach, hot, humid breath against his skin, his right thigh pressed almost all the way to the side by Lambert’s warm body.

When Eskel feels safe enough to open his eyes he sees Lambert’s head resting on his upper stomach, face turned down, no doubt eagerly watching Eskel’s movements between them, while Lambert’s own hand slowly strokes over Eskel’s perineum with gentle pressure. Up and down, up and down, almost hypnotic. His fingers are warm and slick with oil, spreading it around, only grazing over Eskel’s furled pucker now and then, making him jump a little in excitement each time. But Lambert doesn’t seem in a hurry, just stroking and petting Eskel’s sensitive skin, matting dark, curled hair with oil. The quiet, slick sounds between their slightly laboured breaths somehow make Eskel feel hotter in anticipation.

Finally a finger carefully strokes a tenderly probing circle around his hole. Eskel whimpers.

"Does this feel good?" Lambert asks and looks up to him. The bridge of his nose is flushed an even, rosy red making his few, small moles stand out endearingly.

Eskel just breathes, chest rising quickly. He nods, feeling like this is indeed unknown, new and as breathtaking as the intensity is terrifying.

"Do you like this?"

Lip caught between teeth, Eskel nods again, then hums, inhale choking in his throat with a wet clicking sound. He finally breathes out words, barely audible, "I've never… no one has ever touched…" He trails off, face flaming. The impact of the words cutting deeper than their made up nature should.

Lambert's face flushes even more, ears alight, heart thundering so loud in his chest Eskel can hear it. "It's okay. I…" He trails off to swallow the saliva flooding his mouth. "I can - I'll make it good for you."

"Do you promise?" Eskel asks, and his usually rumbling voice sounds so small. It makes Lambert's heart stumble a beat and his cock taps the underside of Eskel’s thigh with it’s heavy twitch. It leaves a wet smear on heated skin.

"Yes," Lambert sobs on a whisper, "I promise. " He smothers his face against the underside of Eskel's throat. He can hear him swallow, breath reedy.

"Touch me some more? There?" Eskel asks meekly after a moment, in the same repressedly-excited voice, and it's the most alluring, hesitant instruction Lambert ever wanted to follow.

"I want you to," Eskel adds, making Lambert groan against damp skin. He shifts a little and places a chaste kiss to the top of Lambert’s head, smiling fondly.

Lambert moans, stifling the sound against Eskel’s quivering stomach as he circles his finger some more, now insistent against Eskel’s entrance.

Eskel sighs, shivering at the sensation. It’s been literal decades anyone has taken this much time with him and he is thoroughly enjoying just basking in the attention. And Lambert is incredibly attentive. Eskel would not have gathered that, but he is, his yellow eyes darting up to his face now and then, reading his expression, before his hungry gaze slides down to where Eskel is still slowly pumping his cock.

His whole hand is covered in precome now, sticky and slick.

After another long moment of soft slick noises of both Lambert’s fingers at his hole and Eskel jerking his cock, Lambert awkwardly shuffles up so he can just about press a kiss to the underside of Eskel’s chin.

“Kiss me, Eskel,” Lambert requests softly, already closing his eyes and Eskel just melts. He angles his head down more than willingly.

Their lips meet in a messy kiss while Lambert’s finger slowly slides inside. Eskel’s breath is pushed from his lungs in a whimper, swallowed greedily by Lambert’s open mouth against his. He kisses Lambert harder, driven on by the delicious sensation sparking from the careful intrusion.

“Want more?” Lambert asks as he laps at Eskel’s desperately begging mouth. Eskel just moans, but Lambert waits for him to verbally confirm.

Eskel whines, shivering again. His whole body shakes. “Want you, Lambert.”

Lambert’s eyes, as they flick up to his, are nearly black. He looks drugged, but also intensely focused.

He pulls his finger out, seems to fumble somewhat between Eskel’s hips and then is back with two, slowly circling Eskel’s hole. Eskel has to keep himself from shoving his hips back. He is supposed to not know what he is doing and somehow that is even true, because he really doesn’t know what to expect from this, but he so wants to just sink onto those questing fingers.

He pulls at his cock quicker, muscles in his stomach clenching. This is the best kind of torture, he dicides and just gives himself over to it, writhing impatiently, but letting Lambert lead.

Two careful fingers become three and Eskel is covered in sweat. His lips are swollen and red from the constant, messy, wet kissing that he really doesn’t want to miss ever again in his life. Lambert doesn’t seem to fare much better. His lips are also puffy, a slight beard burn at one corner of his mouth, face sheened in sweat. But his entire focus is still on Eskel.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers as he watches Eskel jerk his cock. He pushes in harder, seeming to try to match Eskel’s speed and ferocity and Eskel groans.

“Good?”

“Yes.” Eskel shudders through the answer. Then, because he’s afraid Lambert might come up with an entirely new kind of torture, he adds desperately, “Don’t stop.”

Lambert snorts as if the thought alone is ludicrous. Lambert’s thrusts become harder, oil squelching obscenely between Eskel’s cheeks as he speeds up even more, lower lip clamped between his teeth while he pants, staring at Eskel’s cock twitching and jumping in his grip on an equally twitching and jumping stomach, glistening with half dried and new precome. Despite the odd angle of his hand that their positions affords him, he manages to graze Eskel’s prostate a couple of times and Eskel’s leg kicks.

Eskel squeezes hard around his cock, panting.

“No, don’t stop touching yourself,” Lambert whines, sounding bereft.

“I have to,'' Eskel presses through gritted teeth. “Too close,” he offers as explanation.

“Oh shit, really?” Lambert’s voice climbs about an octave in disbelief through those three words and Eskel cannot help but quirk an incredulous eyebrow at him.

“Yeah,” Eskel laughs, breathless and amused, “Really.” It’s not like they have been at this for hours. At least it feels that long to Eskel.

Lambert looks like he is in awe. He drops his head again, no doubt to stare at Eskel’s cock some more and watch his own hand just rest between Eskel’s cheeks.

Huffing, slightly amused, Eskel nudges the top of Lambert’s head with his nose, biting a tuft of hair and pulling playfully.

Lambert surfaces, looking drunk.

Eskel lifts a meaningful eyebrow, before he shoots a hinting gaze between his legs. He is so hard it is bordering on uncomfortable and he just wants to clamp his legs around Lambert’s trim waist, topple them over and just ride him into next morning. But that’s not the fantasy here.

“Oh yeah. Yeah.” Lambert scrambles to sit up, but takes a lot of care to pull his fingers free with the utmost gentleness.

He kneels between Eskel’s spread legs and oils his cock with trembling hands. Eskel is so frustrated already, he doesn’t dare think how Lambert must feel. At least Eskel got to touch his cock, Lambert was just - well - servicing him, really. The thought plumes hot in his gut.

Lambert arranges Eskel’s legs around his waist, making sure he is comfortable, then he lines up, looking at where his cock nudges at Eskel’s relaxed hole.

He leans forward for another quick kiss, before he balances his weight on one arm, checks again that they’re aligned properly and then lets his hips push his slender cock slowly inside.

Lambert looks amazing. It's just a split second, that thought, before the sensation from over-sensitized, languidly stimulated nerve endings hits.

Eskel gasps and suddenly he can’t breathe. His back twists back against the mattress and he sobs, muscles jumping. He grips his cock hard, hand shaking.

“Stop! Fuck, Lambert!” Eskel’s other hand shoots out between his legs to push against Lambert’s stomach and Lambert freezes, wide eyed and panicked.

“You okay?” He asks, completely frozen, voice a whisper. His arms trembling from the strain of holding himself still mid-movement.

“Yeah, shit, fuck sorry,” Eskel whines, voice breaking on a quaking moan as another wave of sensation races from his groin up his spine flaring out in hot goosebumps. He squeezes his cock harder, hand trembling. He knows he’s making little sense and he desperately wants to tell Lambert that everything is fine, wipe the concern off his face. But he has to manage to pull air into his lungs and regroup his scattered thoughts first. He is still twitching.

Eskel sucks in a huge breath with a bellowing hiss. “I’m good.” He reaches a hand that is shaking terribly up to Lambert’s cheek, brushing his knuckles over the stubble in reassurance. “I’m good. This is good. You nearly made me come,” he explains, then adds with a wry frown, “Or maybe you did. I’m actually not sure.”

Lambert’s gaze flicks down between them where Eskel still holds his hard cock in a deathgrip at the base. Only precome oozes from the pulsing head.

“If so, then it was dry.”

“Yeah,” Eskel agrees, still panting. “And if you hadn't stopped I’d have come just from your first thrust.”

“That wouldn’t have been a bad thing though?” Lambert looks puzzled.

“But my fragile, manly ego would never live it down if I came at not even half the length of your lovely cock,” Eskel says, deadpan.

Lambert’s puzzlement switches to a smug, toothy grin, and Eskel feels his cock twitch sharply where it is buried halfway inside him.

“I want to come with you fully inside me,” Eskel confesses breathlessly and Lambert’s smug grin slides off his face, replaced with slack-jawed lust.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that too,” Eskel agrees smoothly, still panting. “I want you to fuck me properly - It’s my first time after all,” he adds slyly and although Lambert is fully aware it is a cheap ploy, he can’t help his desperate groan at Eskel’s words, stomach muscles jumping sharply.

“Can I move?” Lambert asks meekly, almost pitifully, shaking in earnest now.

“Yeah. Make me a man, Lambert.”

“Oh fuck, _fuck!_ Eskel!” Lambert sobs and he clearly cannot help how his hips slam forward, whacking Eskel’s breath from his lungs like a punch.

All the sounds that make sex weird the first time fill the space around and between them, but Eskel is old enough, experienced enough to like them, the slap and slick squelch making him hotter, groin and stomach churning tighter at the filth of it.

Lambert leans in close, as close as he can get, hugging Eskel to himself. He has one hand in Eskel’s hair, the other wrapped around his shoulder from underneath, pulling Eskel into every thrust.

Their bodies are so close Eskel cannot take a full breath, but it doesn’t matter, because all he can smell is Lambert’s scent deep in his lungs, the air humid with strained, gasping breaths and sweat, all he can feel is slick skin against his, slipping and catching and sliding.

He moans, breathless and not caring, angling for kisses that will steal more of his air. The hard rolls of Lambert’s hips shudder through Eskel’s whole body, pushing him into Lambert’s cradling hands, contorting his body, pushing against his ass and the thrusts are so deep and full they make him see spots at the corner of his vision - or maybe that’s the lack of oxygen - but it only heightens his pleasure, as his cock twitches between them, squashed between their sweat slick bellies.

“Good?” Lambert chokes out on a choppy exhale, the thrusts of his hips getting more forceful, faster, breath gasping and laboured.

Eskel just manages a weak moan, throwing his head back and arms wrapped around Lambert’s back, leaving red marks on his scarred skin as he slams his hips hard in counterpoint to Lambert’s thrusts.

The sensation maelstroms and twists so fast into his climax Eskel reels just before he seizes and shudders through it, Lambert hot on his heels. His breathy, choppy whine is loud in Eskel’s sensitive ear and he doesn’t want it any other way. He bites at Lambert’s shoulder, needing to anchor himself as his cock pulses between them. He sobs and sobs, feeling sweat sting his eyes, skin alight and twitching, breath not enough. Never enough. Lambert everywhere.

Eskel comes back slowly.

He feels groggy and realises that he is still softly whimpering every time he releases a breath. It just flows out of him like that somehow.

Lambert is on top of him, still deep inside, still cradling him and softly strokes his hair.

“You are so amazing,” he whispers intimately against Eskel’s temple, lips brushing unmarred skin.

Eskel just continues to whimper out grateful sighs, lazily turning his head so Lambert can reach the hair on the side of his head more easily to card his fingers through. Lambert snorts and places a fond kiss on the side of his nose as he easily complies, scratching his fingers fully through thick, sweaty hair.

They slowly come back to themselves. Eskel is loath to leave this space, this quietness between them. But he knows it is too fragile not to shatter as soon as one of them moves.

Lambert staggers off on legs as unsteady as a young colt’s and comes back with warmed wash cloths. Eskel dozes through being rudimentarily cleaned. When Lambert sits at the end of the bed to collect his braies, Eskel languidly stretches out his hip and nudges him with his foot.

When that doesn’t have the desired effect of Lambert actually looking at him, dexterous toes grab the short hair at the back of Lambert’s head and he pulls.

“Ow, you ass!”

But Lambert finally turns around as he rubs his head, scowling. Eskel just opens his arms and gives an inviting nod of his head.

Lambert looks unsure and it hurts something deep in Eskel’s chest.

“There should be much cuddling after the deflowering,” he declares with a warm smile.

“I don’t cuddle,” Lambert says quickly, eyes skittering all over the place, but looking at him and Eskel needs to fight hard to not roll his eyes. Eskel worms his foot around Lambert’s side and hooks it under Lambert’s armpit to pull him closer.

As holds go, it is not very effective, but Eskel just needs to playfully annoy Lambert long enough to give his brain time to allow itself to be convinced that this is okay. “Come here, you dumbass. You might not cuddle, but _I_ _do_ and as the recently deflowered virgin I demand it.”

Lambert lets himself be pulled with a lot of grumbling on his part, but it’s not like he is putting up much of a fight. He just needed a firm nudge - or twenty.

When they have finally arranged themselves in a comfortable position, hugging each other firmly - much more firmly than Eskel expected from the resistance Lambert had put up - Eskel sighs, totally content.

For a while just the sound of their shared breathing permeates the room, lulling Eskel to the brink of sleep.

“Thank you for-” Lambert cringes at Eskel’s startled twitch as he is yanked back to full wakefulness, “Sorry! Shit, I’m sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Eskel mumbles, pulling Lambert tighter against his side, just in case he decides to bolt.

Lambert seems to take the gesture as encouragement instead and forges bravely on, “So...thanks for... indulging me.”

Eskel snuffles against Lambert’s temple. “Thanks for trusting me with it.” He wants to say more, but is reasonably sure that would make Lambert actually bolt however hard Eskel is currently cuddling him.

His caution is confirmed as Lambert subtly tries to hide his cringe even at Eskel’s mild words and instead just blurts, non-sequitur, "You should've been a thespian. "

Eskel makes a small, quizzical sound.

"You were trembling almost all the way through this. It seemed very real."

Eskel pulls back and just looks at him incredulously. Then he smiles, slightly wry and cuffs him on the head. Gently. "That's because it was."

Lambert just stares at Eskel’s earnest expression. Slowly a timid blush creeps over his cheeks as that sinks in - and what it might mean.

"You're an idiot," Eskel says affectionately and pulls Lambert’s head underneath his chin, settling in for the night, content to let Lambert think by himself for a while.


End file.
